


five times mollymauk wanted to kiss fjord (and one time he did)

by hupperdook (antiva)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marked as Other cause Molly's nb, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiva/pseuds/hupperdook
Summary: What it says on the tin. Very self-indulgent, don't @ me.Mollymauk is frustrating, and Fjord is kind.Not entirely canon-compliant - assumes there are periods of time skipped by the first twenty or so episodes and slips some moments in there.





	five times mollymauk wanted to kiss fjord (and one time he did)

 

 

 

_one_

 

Fjord and Beau took the first watch. The night is young, the moon still inconspicuous in the greyish-blue sky, and Yasha's asleep with an arm over her eyes to keep the last of the daylight out.

 

Mollymauk is awake. His head is rested upon his coat, huge relief in the fact that he doesn't need it to stay warm, for once. The small campfire provides more than enough warmth for those who want to enjoy a night under the stars. Molly wonders why any of the Mighty Nein picked the tent; the night air feels amazingly fresh.

 

It's just Molly, Fjord, and Yasha's sleeping form now, as Beau has left to find a minute of privacy before taking the watch.

 

"Not sleepy?"

 

Mollymauk regretfully stops counting the few brave stars that have begun to show their faces above. He turns to find Fjord watching him.

 

"Not looking out for my safety?" he teases with a mischievous smile. "You know, I might be pretty, but my looks won't survive if I get eaten by--"

 

"Something tells me you've got a different problem," Fjord interrupts, unbothered. Molly's jaw falls shut so fast he's sure it made a sound.

 

He sits up, trying to act nonchalant, and mulls over the question for a short moment. Honesty does seem appropriate.

 

"I don't, in fact," he decides, a thumb smoothing over his fingernails as he inspects them. "Perhaps I just enjoy your company more, at the moment."

 

"Should've taken the watch."

 

"Beau called it first." Still, Mollymauk moves to push his coat over next to Fjord and sits down on top of it. "I might as well steal it from her for a while, though, seeing as neither of you are paying attention." Fjord is, indeed, still looking at the tiefling. His eyes, sometimes cold and threatening but most of the time just wary, have a fond and relaxed look to them.

 

Ah, Mollymauk is staring.

 

"A third to complete the useless set, then," Fjord teases, a smile tugging on the scarred corner of his mouth, and suddenly Molly feels the need to _do_ things to that mouth. This isn't the first time, but it is the first time he feels like he could do something about it, as no one else is around and they are so, _so_ close Mollymauk isn't sure what to do with himself if not kiss him.

 

Fjord has noticed. Molly knows he has, and he wonders whether it's just his tired brain playing tricks on him or their faces are actually inching closer, and --

 

"Hey. That's my watch," Beau's voice is easily carried by the quiet clearing. She couldn't have seen their faces from where she is walking towards the campfire but, _gods_ , Molly is suddenly thrust back into the beginning stages of their tentative alliance.

 

"I'll leave you to it, then," he speaks up, his words clearly directed at Beau, but his eyes still locked with Fjord's. The half-orc – such a tease, really – licks his bottom lip as they move away from each other.

 

Mollymauk pushes the coat to the side, wraps his head in the hood, and closes his eyes, praying for sleep to take him.

 

 

 

_two_

 

Another town, another jail cell to be put in, or however that Othanzian saying goes. The Empire doesn't like people who stand out, especially when said people happen to be around when a theft takes place, whether by coincidence or... Nott.

 

The jail cell is tiny as a broom closet and the stench of whatever bodily fluids have been produced here is horrible, and Mollymauk is grateful that he isn't in solitary confinement, at the very least. The feeling of Fjord's calf against his own as they sit opposite of each other, legs entangled, is strangely more comforting than anything else, even if forced semi-cuddling isn't one of Mollymauk's favorite activities. Still, the scalp behind his horn itches a _lot_ and he wants nothing more than a few more inches to the chain attached to his shackles. He lets out a heavy sigh and looks up at Fjord, who seems to be deep in thought.

 

"You _could_ summon your falchion, couldn't you," Molly mutters, looking desperately for any hope that they could escape before Jester bribes the right people and comes to get them.

 

"And stab myself with it?" Fjord offers, looking pointedly at how Mollymauk's wrists are, just as his own, chained to the wall the way he can barely move them up to his shoulders if he strains them.

 

"Death would be a better feeling than the numbness in my ass cheeks right now," the tiefling moans, trying to shift his body so that a different bunch of muscles supports his weight. No improvement, but he vows to die trying, and also probably gives Fjord a bruise in the process.

 

Hours pass, and it seems like Jester's plan isn't working; Molly grows worried. Fjord maintains a poker face, as he does. 

 

"You know, I wonder how far these chains can actually go," Mollymauk says, tugging on the shackle on his left wrist. "We could, like, straighten our arms behind our backs, and --"

 

"And what? Make out?" Fjord mocks him without a second thought, his raised eyebrow immediately giving way to an exasperated look as he sees Mollymauk's wide grin. "That. Wasn't an actual suggestion."

 

"Well, it is a way to pass the time," Molly replies, "and I wouldn't want my friends to die without getting kissed." They're very likely not dying here, but that's not the point.

 

"And – you assume I haven't been kissed why?" Fjord's reply doesn't have a playful tone to it, but he does not seem uncomfortable, instead meeting the tiefling's eye with warm curiosity.

 

"Well – for starters – you are absolutely terrible at flirting," he replies, accent strong on the _terrible_. "Then, there's the way you --"

 

"Okay," Fjord interrupts with a sigh before Molly elaborates, "we can try."

 

"Why do you love to interrupt me so," Mollymauk sighs, but he's already rearranging himself the way his legs are folded underneath his butt, or as close to that as possible. Fjord is a man of unguessable motives, and Molly is not going to wait until he changes his mind.

 

"Now, maybe if you twist your arm like this – no, Fjord, like this – perfect," he instructs the half-orc, and starts leaning in, some sort of nervousness already forming in his stomach; he chooses to ignore it.

 

Fjord leans in, too. Closes his eyes shut. Molly follows him.

 

Nothing happens.

 

Molly opens his eyes to see Fjord's amused face about two inches from his. The shackles won't go any further, and his shoulder is starting to scream.

 

"Oh, are you kidding me," he huffs, and flops back down to lean against the wall, hissing in pain when he twists his arm uncomfortably.

 

"I would assume whoever designed this cell was not a person of below-average intelligence," Fjord responds, taking a slower and more reasonable approach moving his body back into the previous spot, and doesn't he always do just that.

 

"I sure have a below-average mood right now," Molly scoffs, but his expression shifts abruptly when he finally manages to scratch the itchy spot on his scalp by a combination of pulling and painful neck twisting. "Fuck yeah," he says, and the sudden change makes Fjord chuckle.

 

Jester arrives a relatively short time afterwards, cheerful as ever and slightly apologetic; she doesn't comment on the odd tension between the two as they stuff themselves with her stale donuts.

 

 

 

_three_

 

There are many brawls waiting to happen as the Mighty Nein travels across Wildemount, and this one, taking place in the middle of a forest, is no different from any other. Except... maybe it is, because three more rogues appear seemingly out of nowhere where the leader of the group appeared to be the last one standing – and oh, is that a dog?

 

Caleb is on them immediately, saving Beau's ass with a Slow spell, and she's able to knock one out with a well-aimed kick at their jaw. She breathes a sigh of relief and rests heavily against the tree behind her. Still, two remain – and the leader starts closing in on Mollymauk, who is wiping fresh blood off his scimitar with his most prized handkerchief, For Sword Use Only. 

 

Yasha jumps off the path and into the fray among the trees with Beau, slashing at one of the rogues to the point where he's coughing up blood, but he's still standing. Molly chooses to ignore the leader, still a safe distance away, and jumps forward, positioning himself against a big rock and slashing at the weakened rogue's legs – incapacitate, not kill, is his general preference for weak thugs who just happened to be hired by all the wrong people. The man stumbles and falls, daggers fall loose from his grip, and Mollymauk grabs one and puts it in his pocket for inspection later.

 

Nott seems to be engaging the last of the rogues, fading in and out of Molly's vision as she maneuvers around the cart and behind a bush. Jester is right next to her, digging in her pouch, presumably fishing out a potion to give to Beau, who looks to be in severe pain from a fresh gash on her shoulder. He looks around, searching for Fjord, and that second of inattention is enough.

 

Pain shoots up through his entire body as he feels a dagger tear through his clothes and into his side. Blood immediately fills his throat and he chokes on it, black clouding his vision.

 

The leader of the group was faster than he expected.

 

The dagger is pulled out of Molly's body as he turns, causing another shock of pain and releasing a stream of blood from his side. The huge man grins and aims to cut again, this time into Mollymauk's stomach as they face each other.

 

But nothing happens. His smile falls as his eyes get wide, and his meaty palm lets go of the dagger to fall at his side. 

 

The man drops to his knees at the same time as his last remaining comrade falls to the ground with a grunt. Behind him stands Fjord, holding a bloody falchion. It's the most beautiful sight Mollymauk's eyes have ever seen.

 

"You alright?" Fjord asks, concerned, as the falchion dematerializes and he steps forward, holding Molly's body up against the rock. He is so, so close.

 

"I c-could kiss you right now," Mollymauk replies, doing his best to look composed.

 

"Well why don't you?" Fjord asks, somewhere between a smile and a worried frown.

 

Molly manages a weak laugh and his vision fades to black.

 

 

 

_four_

 

“I found this just sitting around, maybe we can share?” is a suggestion Nott gives after a particularly successful assignment lands them in a rented apartment, twelve gold per person a night. There's a stone fireplace and the floors are the cleanest any of the Mighty Nine have seen in weeks, if not months. Nott is dirty, and holding up three bottles of, presumably, alcohol.

 

“Sitting around, you say,” hums Mollymauk, shuffling his cards and looking up from a relatively soft armchair in the corner of the room. Everyone is here, sprawled on the carpet or sitting on one of the chairs, except for Yasha, who arrived a bit later than others, and is currently in the process of taking off bits of armor in one of the two big bedrooms. Fjord is asleep, curled up on the floor not far from Molly.

 

“Oh Nott. Is it possible that you might have stolen it, perhaps?” Jester stops looking through her pouch of trinkets and looks upon the young girl with concern. “You know we paid so much money I don't really want to get in trouble here.”

 

“Well... it was on a table just outside. And untouched. And no one was looking after it... So I would say that no, I didn't steal it. And if I did, at least no one is going to know?” Nott looks nervously to Molly. Molly looks at Caleb. Caleb is completely absorbed by whatever book he's reading.

 

“Sounds alright to me,” says Mollymauk, accompanied by Jester's worried huff and Beau's agreeing 'yup', and takes his legs off a small stool where he's kept them crossed. “Get up, Fjord,” he nudges the half-orc's thigh with his foot, causing him to jolt up, “we're drinking whatever Totally Safe beverage Nott here has procured for us.”

 

Yasha comes back to Molly and Nott pouring the content of the bottles into whatever glasses and cups they managed to find in the apartment's kitchen slash pantry slash storage room, smells the drink and immediately opts out, instead sitting down next to Caleb and opening her own book. Caleb, meanwhile, decides to continue reading, but he does accept a half-filled glass of the drink. Nott hoards one bottle to herself entirely, not persuaded by the group's insistence that she owns the Flask anyway.

 

Beau and Mollymauk start out with shots, making use of the two shot glasses they found, first off the table, then off an empty picture frame, then off Yasha's shoulders. Nott cheers for them and probably downs way more alcohol than they do over the same period of time. The taste is hard to describe; it's got the feel of regular cheap booze and then some herbal-tasting stuff and then the aftertaste of something Molly doesn't even want to question. It gets the job done, and _fast_. 

 

After they've tired out – which takes no more than five minutes of shot-doing and yelling challenges at each other – and decide to slow down, Beau sits by Yasha and tries to persuade her to have a drink, and Molly flops down next to Fjord, who is halfway through his second glass, and looks surprisingly sober.

 

“You come here often?” the tiefling says, hiccups, and giggles. “Sorry.”

 

“Glad to see you're enjoying yourself,” Fjord says, lifting up his glass to touch it to Molly's. “Hope to, uh, hope to see more days like this in the future.”

 

They sit together, chatting and occasionally arguing with Beau from across the room; in the meanwhile, Nott finishes her bottle and starts drinking from the Flask, and Caleb falls asleep after emptying a single glass. Jester is still picking through her collection, glass not yet empty, albeit now her cheeks are flushed and she excitedly tells Nott stories, increasing in length as she drinks. 

 

Mollymauk becomes increasingly aware of just how _warm_ Fjord is. He shuffles closer and closer, and when the half-orc takes it without complaints, Molly rests his head against Fjord's shoulder. Fjord stiffens just a tiny bit; Molly notices.

 

“Whaatz wrong?” he slurs in what is meant to be a seductive purr, then frowns and clears his throat. “You okayyy?” Not any better. He gives up.

 

“Just wondering what you're trying to do here, is all,” says Fjord, looking into his glass contemplatively.

 

“Oooh. What wouldn't I doooo,” Mollymauk giggles, downing the rest of his drink. He wants to get up, but Fjord's hand on his wrist and a funny feeling in his head stop him. “You liiike meee?”

 

“I do. Please don't drink anything more,” Fjord replies, stabilizing him. “You won't feel very good tomorrow.”

 

Molly doesn't hear the last part, instead giving Fjord what he thinks is his best grin.

 

“Okayyy,” he says, voice cracking on the drawn out syllable, “if you kiss me.” He pouts. “Blease.”

 

Fjord kind of chokes at that. Molly can't tell if his cheeks are darker from the alcohol or from what Mollymauk would, in that moment, describe as _all the action_.

 

“You're drunk, Molly,” the half-orc says, a little hoarse still.

 

“Aaaand?”

 

“I don't do first kisses with drunk people. You gotta ask in a better circumstance.”

 

“There's. Neber. A better circumstance,” Molly insists, and he may be drunk, but he's right. Fjord sighs.

 

“Look. I'm gonna show you to bed now, you'll go to sleep, and then you'll wake up and feel terrible, but not as terrible as you would if you kept drinking right now. And then, whenever you decide, we can talk about kissing,” Fjord explains, and Molly isn't really thinking or listening anymore. He lets out a big yawn instead.

 

“Shhhare a bed though?”

 

“Also when you're sober,” Fjord smiles, or maybe Molly hallucinates that part.

 

He does not remember anything beyond the shots when he wakes up the next morning.

 

 

 

_five_

 

It's a sunny afternoon, the Mighty Nein is doing some needed recon before completing a job, and Mollymauk finds staring at Fjord far more engaging than the backyard beneath them.

 

It's a fairly simple job: find out the routine of a group of robbers and kidnappers, learn what their leader looks like, sneak into his home, stab him before anyone notices, and watch all his accomplices scatter in chaos. This group doesn't have much structure or a stronger foundation, so getting rid of one person should do the job. Lousy, if Molly has anything to say about it.

 

Everything seemed easy enough until Mollymauk and Fjord ended up on a tree branch above the backyard. For an eight hour watch.

 

It has been five hours, a total of two people have entered and exited the house, and Molly thinks he is entirely justified in having spent most of that time staring at the handsome man next to him.

 

“Aren't you a little too comfortable?” Fjord asks, eyes not leaving the backyard. Ever the dutiful lookout, Mollymauk thinks.

 

“I could name at least a thousand places that would be more comfortable than my current position, frankly,” he replies, lazily scratching his neck. “But I am enjoying the view.”

 

“Are you, now,” Fjord mutters. “Well, maybe your view also has eyes he'd like to rest on something more pleasant.” Finally, he looks up at Mollymauk and winks. Molly almost loses his grip on the tree branch, and Fjord huffs a laugh. “Careful, now.” He looks back to the backyard, and his face shifts.

 

“Look, if I move away from my current spot I'm going to fall down,” Molly says, “you, on the other hand.”

 

“Molly.”

 

“You can definitely move over here.”

 

“Molly.”

 

“We can definitely make this work, and you'll make sure I don't fall --”

 

“Molly, look.” Fjord points over to where a man has stepped out onto the balcony of the house, stretching as if he's just woken up from a deep sleep. From their position it's hard to see any details, but Molly notes the man's black hair, cropped close to his head, and his outfit, looking very much like a house robe.

 

He also notes that the man is looking right at them.

 

 

 

_plus one_

 

Molly avoids Fjord for a few days after their failed recon job, for reasons he isn't willing to admit even to himself. It's good, though. He takes the double room with Caleb in one town, arranges for a handsome companion in the next and takes the watch with Yasha or Beau on a few nights. No scarred lips to distract him, no polite responses to his teasing. Mollymauk is comfortable and perfectly at peace.

 

Except about a week into this charade, Yasha makes up an excuse and switches her watch with Fjord's. It's so blatantly obvious Mollymauk wants to groan.

 

“So, what's this all about?” he complains as Fjord sits down merely a few inches away from him, quiet enough to allow their companions to sleep, loud enough to convey frustration. 

 

“Do you think I'm angry with you, Molly?” Fjord asks, his voice gentle. That would make Molly's knees give out underneath him, except he's sitting, checkmate.

 

“Uh,” he replies, at a loss of words for maybe the second time in his two-year-old life.

 

“Because I'm not.”

 

“Um. Good.”

 

Fjord shakes his head in exasperation, and it's as expressive as he gets; he then picks up a stick and uses it to get the ash out of the center of the campfire. 

 

“I'm not angry with you either, if you were wondering for any reason whatsoever,” Mollymauk blurts out. He's surprised to see Fjord smile.

 

“I... am happy to hear that, Molly.” And wow, isn't the way he says it _warm_ , so warm that Mollymauk could be taking a swim in the very campfire in front of them and it wouldn't make an impression on him.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good.”

 

They sit in silence, and thoughts are racing through Molly's head like spooked horses; he is comfortable, what they _have_ is comfortable, right? They get along like they've known each other forever, Fjord always has his back and Molly does his best to give back even more than he gets, and Fjord is not angry with him – not that he'd _thought_ he was, he totally hadn't – and together they have the closest thing to a friendship Molly has with anyone other than Yasha. 

 

Yasha, who can't lie to save her life but arranged behind his back to switch her watch with Fjord, just so they could talk.

 

This thought makes something inside Molly's mind _click_ and he almost huffs in annoyance. He is a free person. He is a happy person. So why _exactly_ is he doing whatever it is that he's doing with Fjord and why is he getting frustrated over it?

 

He looks up, and Fjord is right next to him, watching him with warm eyes and a fond smile on his face. Mollymauk's eyes fall to the scar on his lip, and he finds the answer to every question he's asked himself for these past few days.

 

“Oh, fuck it,” he says, and he leans in.

 

Not even a second passes before a big, warm hand cups his cheek, and Molly hums into the kiss, a wave of everything and nothing at all crashing through his mind and body. Fjord kisses him, and kisses him again, and once more, and everything falls into place. Molly forgives himself for being insufferable for the past few weeks. He's just really, really, _really_ wanted this and had no idea how to deal with that. It's okay. Everything's okay. Fjord kisses him again.

 

“We should be watching out for the others,” Molly finally whispers, lips still on Fjord's mouth. Fjord kisses him again.

 

“Long as you promise to stop tormenting yourself,” he murmurs into Molly's lips.

 

_Already have_ , is the thought Mollymauk puts into the next kiss.

 

Fjord understands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And then they rolled nat1 on Perception.


End file.
